Chained Freedom
by Tonya
Summary: ***FINAL Chpts. (7 & 8) ADDED*** Faith's past catches up with her, but can the others save her in time? (*Faith/Wes*,Angel/Cordy,Fred/Gunn)
1. Default Chapter

Title: Chained Freedom

Author: Tonya (tigerlily1998@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer: *runs off to check birth certificate* *runs back* Nope, not me. *curses her luck*

Rating: PG

Spoilers: All of Season 3 AtS

Distribution: Just tell me where.

Feedback: Hello, my name is Tonya, and I am a feedback-aholic.

Summary: Faith's past catches up with her, but can the others save her in time?

Author's Note: Okay, I've had like three separate stories in my head for a few weeks, and this is #3. This story is AU because it's set in the world I created in my "Amends" series. You can also call it the land of denial, but I prefer the first. You don't have to know the story to get what's happening here, but it probably wouldn't hurt. *End self-plug* ;-) 

**********

Lilah Morgan crossed her legs causally and clasped her hands in her lap. Portraying confidence she actually lacked at the moment, she sat perfectly poised, like a graceful debutant posing for a portrait. She kept her expressions as calm and collected as possible as Linwood Murrow flipped through her files.

He looked up at her finally, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. "And why exactly am I funding this parade of ineptitude again?"

"Sir," Lilah began as she sat forward slightly, "I can promise you that this project _will_ benefit Wolfram and Hart in the long-run. The possibilities are endless if we can manage to not only guarantee Angel as a key player on our side, but the Watcher and the Slayer as well."

"Really," he replied, unconvinced.

"Yes, sir," she said with a determined nod.

"And this would be the same Slayer that broke into your office and gave you the nice little scar?"

The corner of Lilah's mouth twitched in response. She clasped her hands even tighter together in her lap, fighting the urge to reach up and touch her still-sore cheek. "That would be her, sir. Faith." She cleared her throat before continuing, "I believe Faith could be a major asset to our firm. She's strong. She's smart. She's violent."

"She's also highly unpredictable and could turn on us like a rabid dog. How would she be worth our time and energy?"

"Because through her, we could get her Watcher, sir. Wyndam-Pryce."

Linwood sighed, reaching onto his desk and closing the open file. "Lilah, this little Project of yours is getting ridiculously out of hand. We have given you the manpower and money you requested to secure inside information from Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, and you have yet to recuperate our losses…."

"I understand that, sir, but…."

"There are no buts here, Lilah," Linwood interrupted as he got to his feet. "There are also no second chances. I think maybe we've treated you so well that you've forgotten our little saying here at Wolfram and Hart."

"Mistakes cost more than time and money," Lilah muttered her breath.

"Exactly. Now, we've been very lenient with you over the past year, but we can only bend so much, Ms. Morgan, until something snaps. Your job was to get Mr. Wyndam-Pryce on our side of the field, not the Slayer. Quite frankly, I don't give a damn about the Slayer, and you know why?"

Lilah hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out if his question was rhetorical or not. "No sir," she finally replied.

"Because Slayers are highly expendable." He placed his hands firmly on the front of his desk and leaned forward. "You kill one, you get another. It's like a revolving door. However, only one man can give us the kind of inside knowledge he has into Angel Investigations and Angel himself. Do you understand what I'm saying, Lilah?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Good," he replied, standing up straight. "Now, your focus is on Wyndam-Pryce. Nothing else. There will be no more nonsense with this Slayer, do you understand?"

Lilah contained the frown she felt forming. "Yes, sir."

He nodded. "Good. Do whatever you have to do, but if I hear that that girl has been on Wolfram and Hart premises again, the least of your worries will be a scar, Ms. Morgan. You're dismissed."

Without saying a word, Lilah stood and quickly gathered her file from his desk. She walked out of the office, trying her best to exude unfaltering confidence.

**********

"Stop pouting, Angel."

Hovering in the doorway of the office, Angel heard Cordelia's voice over his shoulder. He turned to her, a slight frown on his face.

Cordelia and Fred were searching through the file cabinets for a misplaced case, but Cordelia had stopped searching long enough to watch him. 

"I'm not pouting," he said.

"Fred, was he or was he not pouting?" Cordelia asked.

Fred, who knelt over the drawer containing "Wa-Vy", looked up at Cordelia before turning to Angel with an apologetic smile. "You've definitely been in a pouty mood this morning."

"I'm _not_ pouting. I just think…." Angel turned back to the lobby with a frown. "Shouldn't _I_ be the one to train him?"

The settee in the lobby had been pushed to a corner and the floor cleared of all furniture. In the center, Faith and Connor sparred. At the moment, Connor had an arm wrapped tightly around Faith's neck, and she seemed to be instructing him on how to free himself and put his attacker at a disadvantage in one single move.

"I think it's kinda cute," Fred chimed in.

Angel instantly turned back to the women, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Faith teaching my son how to kill is _cute_?"

"You're obviously missing the big picture here, Angel," Cordelia smiled before returning to her search.

"What big picture?"

Cordelia sighed and rolled her eyes. "Angel, please tell me you're not really this blind."

Angel simply looked at her in response.

"You do know why Connor wants to train with Faith instead, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Angel asked, crossing his arms.

Cordelia and Fred shared a look, and even Fred had to shake her head in disbelief. Fred looked towards Angel as she tried to explain, "You don't really have the right _equipment_, Angel."

"But we all use the same equipment…." he began.

Cordelia finally stepped away from the file cabinet and approached Angel. She gently took hold of his shoulders and turned him towards the doorway, looking out into the lobby. "Angel, honey, tell me what you see."

"I see my son being trained by someone who is obviously _not_ me."

"Uh-huh," Cordelia nodded. "True, but what the rest of us see is a hormonally-charged sixteen-year-old boy who's getting the chance to get highly physical with a sweaty and curvy woman."

"What?" Angel scoffed. "Connor doesn't…."

"What? Have eyes?" Cordelia smirked. She returned to the file cabinet as she called over her shoulder, "You really worry me sometimes, Angel."

"He has a crush on her?" Angel asked, turning to them. "Since when?"

Fred smirked and looked from Cordelia, who just rolled her eyes again, to Angel. "Since day one, Angel. Where have you been?"

"Well, I was a little too busy reeling from the fact that my son had returned to me as a teenager to really take notice of anything else," Angel countered in his defense.

"Obviously," Cordelia snickered, returning to her search.

Angel frowned at them and turned his attention back to the lobby, a pout forming on his lips.

**********

"Think they did this on purpose?" Gunn grumbled.

"Most likely," Wesley replied, as he attempted to balance the Styrofoam tray holding five large cups of coffee and one cup of orange juice.

"We're still not cool, you know." Gunn glanced at Wesley and shifted the large bag of breakfast burritos in his arms as they walked up the sidewalk towards the hotel.

"Obviously," Wesley mumbled.

"We may never be cool again."

"Possibly not."

"I just wanted to get that out there. I didn't want you havin' any expectations since Fred and Cordy are making us hang."

"I've learned not to have expectations about anything," Wesley replied, glancing at Gunn.

Gunn simply nodded as he pulled the hotel door open. Wesley stepped in as Gunn let the door close behind them.

Wesley could only raise a curious eyebrow at the scene before them.

In the center of the lobby, Connor was sprawled out on the floor. Faith straddled the boy, pinning him to the ground.

"Should I even ask?" Wesley said.

"Hey, babe!" Faith declared with a smile as she looked up to acknowledge them.

"Hello, Wesley," Connor grinned.

Wesley simply nodded and gave an amused smile in response.

Faith released Connor. As she stood, she extended her hand, and he accepted. She pulled the boy to his feet as she explained, "Just teaching Connor some moves to use."

"Obviously," Gunn mumbled as he walked past Wesley and approached the hotel counter.

"Faith fights very well," Connor replied, the boyish grin on his face never fading.

Wesley simply chuckled as he made his way to the hotel counter.

"We're back with breakfast!" Gunn announced.

Angel, Cordelia, and Fred exited the office as Faith and Connor stepped up to the counter to get their food.

"Okay, who's the loser who got orange juice?" Faith teased.

Connor raised his hand sheepishly.

Faith grinned and handed him his drink. She punched his shoulder playfully as he took the drink from her hand.

Wesley nudged her gently, and she looked up at him, her grin turning to a gentle smile. "Don't worry," she whispered, "you'll always be my favorite loser."

"I am just overwhelmed by the love in this room," he smirked before kissing her quickly on the lips.

"Who had the burrito without onions?" Fred asked as she fished burrito after burrito out of the bag.

Cordelia claimed the burrito in question as Wesley wrapped an arm around Faith's waist, enjoying the moment. The feeling of being back to where they had once been.

**********

"Mr. Travers?"

Quentin Travers, the head of the Council, looked up from his paperwork to see his secretary standing in his doorway. He smiled politely at the young woman before asking, "Yes, Lisa?"

"You have a call on line two. A lawfirm from the States."

He studied Lisa for a moment, curious. "A lawfirm?"

"Yes, sir."

Quentin nodded. "Thank you, Lisa." 

Lisa smiled in acknowledgement and stepped out of the office, pulling the door shut.

Once she was gone, Quentin reached for the phone on his right and pressed the connecting button for line two. "Quentin Travers," he said into the phone.

"Hello, Mr. Travers," the woman's sultry voice responded. "You don't know me, but I'm sure you've heard of the lawfirm I represent-- Wolfram and Hart?"

Quentin frowned. Yes, he had heard of them. In fact, their lawfirm was one of the main reasons the Council stayed in business. Where the Council tried to stop evil, Wolfram and Hart enabled it.

"Yes, I have. May I ask why you're calling, Miss….?"

"Lilah. Lilah Morgan."

"Miss Morgan, is there a reason we're even speaking?"

"Yes, I just thought you'd be interested in a proposition."

"Miss Morgan," Quentin chuckled bitterly. "The Council does not accept propositions from Wolfram and Hart."

"Even if it involves a certain rogue Slayer that's been a thorn in both our sides?"

Quentin cleared his throat as he sat back in his chair. "I'm listening," he finally said.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: You can't see me but I'm doing the Numfar "Dance of Joy" thanks to the feedback! :-)

**********

Faith watched in complete horror.

She wasn't sure how much more she could take. She cursed herself for not making a break for it when she had had a chance. Her window of opportunity was gradually disappearing as the seconds ticked away. If she didn't make her move soon, she would pay the price.

"Faith, where are you going?" Wesley asked as he watched the woman slide off the couch.

"We need more snacks," she declared without hesitation.

Wesley glanced at the bowl of popcorn and bag of chips on the table. "We do, huh?" he smirked.

Faith sighed and stood. "Wes, I can't take it anymore. When we agreed that you could pick the movie this week, I didn't think you'd pick _this_. I expected cars to blow up, people to be shot, maybe even some laughs and some hot sex. Not _this_."

"And what exactly is wrong with Old Yeller?"

Faith could only look at him. When she finally found her voice, she asked, "Did you seriously just ask me that question? I mean, did those words actually leave your mouth?"

"It's a classic," Wesley countered with a smile.

"And to think I'm having sex with you," Faith scoffed, running a hand through her hair. "Why?! Why am I having sex with you?!"

Wesley couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his lips as he paused the film. "You just have to give it a chance. I mean, they shoot the dog later on. There's some violence for you."

Faith's expression fell slightly. "They shoot the dog?!"

Wesley looked from Faith to the television screen, a bewildered expression on his face. He looked back at Faith, stunned. "You didn't know that? I thought everybody knew that."

"Like I would sit through this crap on my own free will," Faith sighed. "Excuse me, but I have to go out and kill something now."

"Faith, it's not that bad," Wesley smiled as he got to his feet.

"It's not that bad? Wes, they _shoot_ the dog!"

"Yes, but… But it doesn't kill him, alright? It just kind of grazes him…."

"Liar," she smirked. "Wes, babe, seriously, I have to go kill something before I go insane. I love you and all, but I am _not_ sitting through this crap any longer."

"What?" Wesley asked as Faith's words finally resonated in him.

Faith opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She cleared her throat and tried again, "I'm gone patrolling."

She quickly leaned over and kissed him before walking towards the apartment door. "I'll see ya in a little while," she called over her shoulder as she grabbed her jacket off the coat-stand by the door.

"But Faith…." Wesley started.

"I'll be home before you know it," she said as she turned to him. She waved goodbye and pulled the door shut, leaving Wesley alone with his shock.

**********

"Idiot!" Faith hissed, the soles of her boots scraping across the sidewalk..

She hadn't meant to say it. It had almost been like an out-of-body experience. She had heard the words come out, and it had sounded a lot like her, but she could have sworn that she hadn't said it.

I love you.

The only other person Faith had ever said those words to had been her mother, and the woman had been on her deathbed at the time.

But now she has said it to Wesley….

"Damn subconscious," Faith grumbled. 

Faith stopped for a moment, her mind trailing to her task at hand. She searched the pockets of her jacket to make sure her stake was with her. Satisfied when her fingers slid across the smooth wood, her mind returned to Wesley and their relationship.

A relationship. That's what they had, right? Sometimes she didn't know. It wasn't like she had other relationships to draw a comparison from. All her previous _relationships _had been about nothing but a quick fuck-- no entanglements. Sometimes, no names. Definitely no emotions. But now it was different.

Her life finally had some order. She had found a home, a dysfunctional extended family in Angel and the others, and she had Wesley. She finally had someone who truly loved every part of her personality, her being. Someone who didn't just love her for the wild, passionate sex. Someone who actually gave a damn about what happened to her. 

And she had screwed their relationship all to hell with three simple words.

Things were going to be different now, and she wasn't so sure it would be a change for the good. 

A quiet jingle from over her shoulder snapped Faith from her thoughts. She turned quickly, stake drawn.

A cat skittered across the sidewalk and into the darkness of a connecting alleyway.

Faith waited a moment before dropping her arm slightly. She watched the cat disappear and sighed.

"Focus, Faith," she whispered to herself. She placed her stake back in her jacket pocket and continued down the sidewalk.

She wondered if Wesley would be asleep by the time she returned home.

**********

225. Give or take, anyway.

Wesley laid in bed, his left arm under his head and his right resting across his chest. He had been laying that way for a while, long enough to estimate how many tiles were on his ceiling. Between tile-counting, he had thought about her, about what she had said. About his complete non-reaction to her words.

He had been shocked to say the least. One moment, they were debating the crappiness of a Disney movie about a dog with rabies and the next, she was making a nonchalant declaration of love. Shocked. He had seen it in her face too. She had even alarmed herself. 

He never got a chance to react before she ran away like he was a carrier of the plague. He could only hope that she hadn't taken his lack of coherent speech as a denial on his part because it hadn't been. 

Wesley turned his eyes to the bedroom door as the hinges squeaked slowly. He glanced at the alarm clock, noting the time, before closing his eyes and feigning sleep.

Three whole hours, he thought.

She hadn't patrolled like that in weeks.

The hinges finally ceased their drawn out squeak, and he heard the sound of the door closing again. He listened to her soft footfalls on the carpet, and opened his eyes slightly as he heard the dresser drawer open.

Faith slowly removed her clothes, trying not to make noise as she tossed them to the floor. She quickly removed her bra and panties and grabbed a T-shirt from the drawer she had opened. Once the shirt was over her head, she removed her hair from underneath the collar and tugged the shirt back down. She slowly pushed the drawer shut, and Wesley instantly closed his eyes again as she turned towards the bed. 

After a moment, the covers shifted slightly, and he felt the cool breeze against the right side of his body. Faith inhaled deeply as the mattress shifted under her weight.

As Wesley listened to her, he wondered what she had done the entire time. Had she been thinking like he had? About what she had said, about the significance of it? Had she been thinking that she should have never said it, that he didn't feel the same about her? Did she wish she could take it all back, even as he wished that she wouldn't?

The bed shifted again, and he listened to her groan as she tried to get settled down. After a moment, her arm draped over his waist as he felt her warm body press against his. Her head rested on his chest, her breath warm against his cool skin.

He smiled as he felt her inhale again.


	3. Chapter 3

"And when is it supposed to be here again?"

"Two weeks," Cordelia replied.

Wesley continued to study the pencil sketch of the demon she had envisioned the previous night. It didn't resemble any demon he had seen before, which meant he and the others had a lot of research ahead of them before its arrival.

"You're getting better at this sketching stuff," Wesley smiled as he slid the picture back over the hotel counter to her.

"Yeah," Cordelia smiled. "What can I say? I'm a natural."

"Angel helped her," Fred admitted as she passed the two, her nose in a book on physics and time relations.

Wesley smiled as Cordelia rolled her eyes.

"Thank you, Fred," Cordelia called to the girl as Fred made her way to the settee. 

"You're welcome!" Fred called back.

"Speaking of Angel, where is he? And Gunn and Connor for that matter?" Wesley replied, looking from Fred to Cordelia.

"Angel's taking Faith's late day as a chance to train Connor. Gunn's helping out."

Wesley nodded as Cordelia looked down at her drawing. He watched her for a moment as she grabbed a nearby pencil and began to erase and resketch the demon's scaly arms.

He and Cordy had always had a bond. Back in Sunnydale, it had been a failed attempt at romance that had brought them together. Here in LA, it had been survival that had _kept _them together, that had strengthened their friendship. Surviving the demons, surviving Angel's dark period, and now surviving Wesley's own lapse into the darkness.

Nothing tests friendship like life in LA.

And he had learned one important thing about their friendship over the years. If there was anyone he could trust to give him a truthful answer to any question he had, it was Cordelia.

"Cordy, can I ask you something personal?" he finally asked quietly.

Cordelia looked up at him, curious. "Depends. How personal are we talking?"

"Just rhetorical personal."

"Okay, shoot."

"If you happened to say I love you to someone, and they didn't automatically say it back, what would you think?"

Cordelia tapped her pencil upon the hotel counter. "Well, _after_ the complete and utter mortification, followed by wondering why the world just doesn't open up and swallow you whole when you need it to, I'd probably think that I just made the most horrible mistake of my life." She paused, raising an eyebrow. "_Why_?"

"No reason," Wesley replied with a slight shrug.

"You're lying," Cordelia replied, leaning forward on the counter. "What's going on, Wesley?"

As Wesley searched his mind for a legitimate excuse, he heard Fred from over his shoulder as she greeted a visitor.

"Hi, welcome to Angel Investigations. How can we help you?" she asked eagerly.

The man, dressed professionally in a navy suit and matching tie, smiled politely at Fred. "I'm looking for Mr. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."

Wesley turned instantly. That voice. He knew that voice, that accent.

"What do you want?" he managed to say as he turned to the man.

The man's smile turned to a sneer as he stepped further into the lobby, Fred moving back to allow him in. 

"Now is that any way to greet an old chum?" the man asked.

"That's an odd choice of words, Phillip." Wesley frowned as he took an aggressive step towards the man.

Phillip Emerson. He knew he had known that voice. Back when he had been vying for the position of the new Watcher in Sunnydale, Phillip had been the only other contender for the job. After a week of debates among the leaders of the Council, they had finally decided that Wesley was more qualified for the position. From that moment on, the men had hated each other. Phillip because he had felt shunted by the decision; Wesley simply because he knew Phillip was nothing but a self-absorbed prick who hadn't deserved the job in the first place. And, later, it had been Phillip who had had the great pleasure of delivering Wesley the news of his termination, a snide smile on his face the entire time.

"I hope you still don't hate me because of some little assignment that happened years ago," Phillip smiled.

Wesley crossed his arms over his chest. "I need a reason to hate you now?"

Phillip simply chuckled and casually slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked again.

"Obviously, someone has misplaced their sense of patience since they were ousted from the Council." He paused before continuing, "I'm here to relay a message to Faith."

"What kind of message?"

"I just need you to inform her that the Council has a proposition for her if she'd like to take it."

"You want her back," Wesley realized.

"On official Slayer terms, yes."

"Well, Phillip, I'm sorry you wasted so much time traveling from the pits of hell, but Faith doesn't need the Council."

Phillip laughed bitterly. "Wesley, have you forgotten that you're not her Watcher anymore? In fact, you're _no one's_ Watcher."

"Funny how that doesn't really bother me coming from a man who didn't have what it took to be a Watcher in the first place."

Phillip shrugged, his smile never faltering. "Maybe not, but the Elite Team has better benefits."

Wesley tensed at those words. The Elite Team. The team that he, Angel, and Faith had eluded the last time they had come for Faith, for her blood.

Thank God she slept in this morning, Wesley thought.

"Tell Faith we'll be in touch," Phillip said as he turned towards the door. He made his way to the door and pushed it open slightly before turning back and shooting Wesley another winning smile. "It was splendid to see you again, Wesley." With that, he disappeared into the late afternoon sun.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say he's not a client," Fred frowned as she glanced at Wesley.

"Wes, what the hell was that all about?" Cordelia asked from over his shoulder.

"I need to call Faith," he said as he quickly made his way towards the office phone on the counter.

As he dialed, Cordelia asked, "Wes, who was that guy?"

"A former colleague," he mumbled as he listened to the extension ring in his ear.

"What's an Elite Team?" Fred asked as she stepped up beside him.

Wesley couldn't suppress the growl as his own voice on the answering machine played back at him. "Dammit," he spat as he slammed down the receiver.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Cordelia reached over the counter and gently touched his hand as she repeated Fred's question. "Wes, what's an Elite Team?" 

"You were gone the last time the Elite Team were here, Cordy."

"I take it they're not the good guys of the Council," she frowned.

"The Elite Team is what we consider the muscle renegade portion of the Council. They believe full-heartedly in the Council's stance that an inactive Slayer is a dead Slayer."

"But Faith's not inactive," Fred chimed in. "She still goes out and kills vampires."

"But not under the Council's terms," he sighed. "In their eyes, she's still a rogue. She doesn't answer to them. She doesn't abide by their rules."

"But isn't that what the other Slayer is for?" Fred asked, confused. "Buffy?"

"She doesn't count," Cordelia concluded, looking from Fred to Wesley. "Faith's the true Slayer. So if Buffy was to bite the big one again…."

"The Council would technically be Slayerless," Wesley finished.

"So why not just hire her back? Isn't that what he said?" Fred continued. "That they had a proposition for her?"

"After what they did to her, I doubt Faith would go back," Cordelia frowned.

"Exactly," Wesley agreed. "And they wouldn't send an Elite member if they were positive she would take the job back."

Cordelia sighed before replying, "Okay, Wes, let's just calm down and think rationally. I mean, would the Council really murder a girl just to get a new Slayer?"

"Cordelia, the Council has committed greater atrocities for what they believed to be the common good. Killing off a Slayer is nothing. They've done it before, and they'd do it again." Wesley reached for the phone again, dialing Faith's cell.

A sense of relief washed over him as he heard the extension pick up. "Faith here."

He had never been so happy to hear her voice.

"Faith, where are you?"

"I'm…" There was a pause as Wesley heard a door open. "Right behind you," she finished.

Wesley turned and hung up the phone. Faith smiled at him from the doorway, a box of doughnuts in her arms. She hung up her phone as he approached her. 

"What's up, babe?"

"You're okay?" he asked, reaching up and touching her face.

She gave him a bewildered look. "Five by five, babe. Why? Am I not supposed to be?"

Wesley sighed, a frown forming on his lips. "Faith, I believe we may have a situation on our hands."

Faith's slight smile faded as she looked into his eyes, the urgency clear in his deep blues. "Wes, what's going on?" she asked.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks again guys for all the feedback! You all keep feeding my addiction to the stuff, and I appreciate it!

**********

"You're sure, Wesley?" Angel asked from his spot at the hotel counter next to Cordelia. Gunn stood next to the settee as Faith sat, flanked by Connor and Fred. Wesley, who stood in the center of the lobby, turned to Angel and Cordelia.

"Very sure."

"But I still slay," Faith countered, looking towards Wesley for support. "It's not like I'm sitting on my ass watching Oprah all damn day. I'm still out there busting my ass for them."

"It doesn't matter, Faith," he replied with a shake of his head.

"Bullshit," she fumed, getting to her feet. "Why should I have to join them if I'm doing fine by myself?"

"Because an inactive Slayer is a dead Slayer," he sighed.

Faith crossed her arms, the anger etched across her face. "So… what? I don't do it so they put a damn hit out on me?"

"If you recall, they _have _done it before, Faith."

"But… but I was different then. I'm not that same person they tried to kill before."

Gunn raised a finger as he interrupted the conversation. "I know I'm new to this Council-Slayer crap, but here's my question. Faith's been out for what? A few months now? So, why are these guys showing up now? Wouldn't they have been back the day she got out?"

"It's almost like somebody tipped them off or something," Cordelia added.

Wesley instantly turned to her as her words struck a nerve. He looked at each of his friends as he replied, "I'll be back."

"Where are you going?" Faith asked as he quickly made his way to the door.

He turned to her with a soft smile. "I'll be back." The smile faded as he continued, "Promise me you'll stay here."

Faith smirked in response. "Let's see-- the Council apparently has a bounty on my head as we speak so I don't think I'm gonna be going far."

Wesley simply nodded before disappearing through the door.

**********

"Miss Morgan, your noon is here."

Lilah looked at the intercom, her brow furrowing. "My noon?" she replied and reached for her appointment book. She flipped to the day's log and ran her finger down the schedule. "Beverly, I don't have a noon appointment."

"He says it's about a certain woman you two have in common."

Lilah smirked and closed her appointment book, triumphantly. "Send him in please, Beverly."

Lilah sat back in her chair as Wesley strode into her office. He slammed the office door shut, and she simply watched him, the smirk turning to a proud smile.

"Hello, Wesley. What a lovely surprise this is."

"I'm not in the mood for your games right now, Lilah."

"Games?" She batted her eyes innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about, Wesley. Wolfram and Hart and I have both been on our very best behavior."

Wesley simply watched her as she picked up a pen and began to twirl it between her fingers.

"So, how's that new girlfriend of yours? She doing okay?"

Wesley smirked. "How's your face? I heard she did a real number on you."

"Well," Lilah shrugged, "we each bear our scars, now don't we?" She gently trailed her pen across her throat from ear to ear.

Wesley's frown returned. "Call it off, Lilah."

"I'm sorry?"

"Whatever deal you made with the Council to get rid of Faith, call it off."

"Now, now, Wesley." Lilah leaned forward, trailing the base of her pen back and forth across the polished oak of her desk. "I can't renege on this deal. That would be highly unprofessional of me."

Wesley approached the desk. He leaned against it, aggressively. "I'll show you unprofessional."

Lilah laughed gracefully. "I'll just warn you now that I've increased my security since your girl paid me a visit. Before you could lay a finger on me, you'd be a bloody heap on my carpet. And those stains are a bitch to get out."

"What do you want, Lilah? What information in my head do you want because I'll give it to you…."

Lilah sat back with a sigh, and Wesley took a step away from her desk. "This isn't about you, Wesley. For once, this is only about Faith."

"I'll only tell you once more, Lilah. Call it off."

Lilah chuckled. "You can tell me as many times as you wish, Wesley, but the deal still stands. I want the girl's blood. The Council wants the girl's blood. So guess what, Wesley? We'll _get_ the girl's blood."

"We _will_ fight back," he declared.

"Oh, I'm counting on it. That's what makes it so much fun." She leaned forward again, grabbing a file that rested upon her desk. She casually flipped it open as she looked back up at Wesley. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Wesley. I have some work I need to be doing."

Wesley growled at her in response and stormed out of the office.

Once he was gone, Lilah reached for her phone and dialed. "Yes, Mr. Travers, this is Lilah. There's been a change in plans. Drop the proposition charade because we're finishing this deal right now."


	5. Chapter 5

**********

"I can't do this," Faith fumed as she paced the lobby. "I can't just sit around on my ass like some damsel in distress. I need to do something."

Fred watched her silently from her seat upon the hotel counter, Gunn leaning beside her.

From her desk, Cordelia watched Faith walk back and forth. "And what are you supposed to do, Faith? We don't know who these guys are. We don't know what they look like. Hell, we don't even know if they're really here to kill you."

Faith growled loudly and walked back to the settee, flopping down next to Connor who nibbled on a doughnut. He reached inside the box at his feet and handed Faith a chocolate glazed doughnut. She smiled in appreciation as she took the it from his hands. She picked at it for a moment before looking at her watch. 

She looked up towards the hotel door as she asked, "Where the hell is Wes? He should be back by now."

"Faith, I'm sure he's fine," Cordelia replied. "He'll probably come strolling through that door any minute now."

With that, the hotel door opened and Wesley walked in.

Everyone looked towards Cordelia who simply gave a half-smile and a shrug of her shoulders. "What can I say? I'm good."

Faith approached Wesley, pushing his shoulder hard. "I was starting to get worried," she frowned.

"Ow," he replied as he touched his shoulder.

"Where did you go?"

"Something Cordelia said made sense," he replied.

Cordelia approached the lobby as she smirked, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't sound so surprised by that, Wesley."

"You said that someone tipped the Council off to Faith's release, and when you said that, I knew exactly who would do it."

Faith crossed her arms. "It was that bitch, wasn't it?"

"Lilah, yes."

"I should have killed her when I had the chance."

"But killing a human would be wrong and against everything we stand for," Fred replied as she nodded towards Connor. The boy simply raised an eyebrow in response.

Faith scoffed as she turned to Fred. "Yeah, when did Lilah start qualifying as a human?"

"So what do the mega-evil lawyer and the Council have planned?" Cordelia asked.

"The Council is working with Wolfram and Hart?" Angel asked as he descended the staircase.

"It appears that way," Wesley answered as Angel sat next to Connor. "Lilah wants you out of her hair, Faith, and it seems that the Council is only more than happy to help."

"The deader, the better, huh?" she frowned.

**********

"My men know the rules, and yours?" Lilah asked.

Riding in the passenger seat of the military jeep, Lilah checked her watch as she spoke with Quentin on her cell. Hopefully, in approximately thirty minutes, her life would be less one Slayer. And Lilah could barely wait.

"The rules?" came Quentin's voice.

Lilah sighed in response. "The target is Faith, no one else. I know your men can get a little stake-happy, but no one is to kill Angel. Maim him, bludgeon him, torture him however you please, but he's not to be dusted in any form. If he dies, your Elite Team will be going back to merry ol' England in body bags."

"My men understand completely, Miss Morgan."

"Great," she smiled. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

**********

"So what are we supposed to do?" Faith asked. "Because them killing me is not an option."

"If it comes down to it, we could always fight," Wesley shrugged.

"Fighting's good," Connor perked up.

"Or you could run," Gunn said from his spot at the counter.

Faith turned to him, eyes angry. "Run? What kind of plan is that?"

"It's the kind of plan where none of us get hurt or killed. It's the kind of plan that makes sense."

"I'm _not_ running," Faith replied harshly. "You want to run like some little girl, fine, but I'm not."

"Fine by me," he shot back, "Because you know what? Ain't my fight."

Fred rolled her eyes as everyone began to yell at each other. Sick of hearing them argue, she slid off the counter and made her way towards the front door.

Fresh air. She'd step outside, get some fresh air, and take in the peace of nature. Maybe watch the sun set into the horizon. Then, she'd be ready to step back into the minefield that had become the hotel.

The door only opened halfway before she stopped, her heart dropping in her chest.

Situated just outside the hotel, nearly two dozen men, give or take, finished strapping on their military gear. Off to the side, Fred caught a glimpse of Lilah speaking with an older man, dressed as if he were on his way to a very important board meeting.

Fred instantly shut the door and stumbled back into the lobby where the chaos continued. She stepped into the center of the commotion and raised her hands up in the air as she fought for everyone's attention. "Guys! Problem!" she screamed.

Everyone stopped fighting and looked at her.

"You may want to decide on a plan within the next five seconds because they're here," she frowned as she lowered her arms. "They're here and they're armed."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Feedback is my drug. You all are my drug-dealers. :-) Thank you for feeding my addiction. You all rock beyond words.

***********

"And the plan would be what exactly? Besides _not_ getting killed?" Gunn asked.

Angel reached into the weapons cabinet, grabbed a battling axe, and tossed it to Gunn. "The plan is we stall. Long enough for Wes to get Faith out of here."

"No," Faith declared from over his shoulder. "No, I'm staying. I'm not letting these assholes do this to me again. They ran me out of Sunnydale. They're not doing this to me again."

"Faith," Angel sighed as he grabbed a sword for himself and one for Cordelia. "You don't really have a choice in the matter. You either leave or you die."

"We'll leave," Wesley finally said, stepping up beside Faith.

Faith turned to him. "But, Wes…."

"We'll take the tunnel in the basement," he continued. "Get back to the apartment, grab some money and things, and just leave."

"Fine," she finally agreed.

"So go," Angel ordered.

Wesley and Faith exchanged a look. Before they could move, the doors of the hotel flew open violently, the sound echoing through the hotel. The men filed in through the front door as others came charging down the hotel staircase.

"Remind me to get a security system for this place," Cordelia frowned as she watched the intruders make their way down the stairs.

"GO!" Angel barked.

Faith and Wesley took off for the basement. Wesley stopped momentarily to remove the last sword from the weapons cabinet as Faith continued on. She ran to the basement door and yanked it open.

The barrel of the man's handgun rested between her eyes.

"Target acquired," the man said into his headset.

"Target pissed," Faith growled and grabbed the man's arm, twisting until she heard the bones snap. The gun clattered to the ground as the man screamed in pain. Faith punched him hard, and he launched headfirst down the basement stairs.

Wesley ran up to her and grabbed her arm. "Let's go," he instructed and started down the staircase.

Faith remained where she stood, her eyes on the gun at her feet.

"Faith!" Wesley called up to her as he stopped midway on the staircase.

She instantly turned her eyes to him. "Yeah, I hear ya."

He motioned for her to get a move on, and as he glanced back into the basement, Faith covertly picked up the gun. She slid the gun into the back waist of her jeans, tugging her shirt over to conceal it, and ran down the staircase to join him. He took her hand, and they took off, listening to the commotion that was happening upstairs.

Faith hoped they would be okay, even Gunn, as she and Wesley made their way to the tunnel.

**********

They were being followed, and their pursuers were getting ever closer.

His hand still wrapped tightly with Faith's, Wesley could hear the echoes of their footsteps. It was hard to tell which direction they were coming from at times. The tunnel system made every sound seem like it was right there with you. 

But he knew they were giving chase, and he knew they were close. He and Faith needed to get out from underground. Underground they only had a few places to run, to hide.

Sunlight in the distance. He could see the ladder coming up in the distance, leading back to the surface. This was their chance.

"The ladder, Faith! Go!" he whispered.

Their grip to each other final dissolved as she ran to the ladder and climbed up. She lifted up the grate with a groan as Wesley stood at the bottom of the ladder, waiting. If they came now, he would be ready for them. He would keep them off until Faith got away. He would make sure of it.

"Wesley!" Faith whispered.

He finally looked up. She kneeled over the edge of the manhole, her hand held down for him. Wesley took another look down the darkened tunnels, the sound of heavy footfalls continuing to bounce off the tunnel walls. He turned back to the ladder and made his way up to join her.

Wesley pulled himself into the alleyway with Faith, and she instantly grabbed his hand. She led the way as they ran towards the end of the alley. She stopped as soon as they reached the street.

"Faith, we need to keep going," he gasped between gulps of air.

"No," she shook her head as she looked towards the abandoned store in front of them.. "No, I'm tired of running."

The windows and door of the former music store were tightly boarded. Faith stepped up to the door and began ripping away the boards with her hands, and the brittle wood collapsed under her strength. Wesley could only watch her, his eyes darting from her to the alley and back again.

As she removed the last board and kicked the door in with one hit, she smiled at him and motioned for him to follow her.

Wesley knew they had to keep moving. If they stopped, they would be found, and she would die. He wanted to scream at her, to ask her why she was doing this, but he knew that she had her reasons. Whatever those reasons were, he'd stay with her. He'd protect her to the end. He would not abandon her like everyone else in her life. Never.

Wesley ran into the store, and Faith--who had already made her way across the desolate building-- motioned him again. She opened a door that appeared to lead into the former storage room, and he followed her inside.

Faith closed the door and locked it securely.

"Faith," Wesley pleaded as he leaned his sword against a nearby shelf, "we need to get you out of here. There's too many of them for us to take on by ourselves."

"I know," she said quietly, her hands flat against the door.

"They're going to kill you."

"An inactive Slayer is a dead Slayer," she mumbled. She finally turned and approached him. "Wes, you know I trust you, right?" 

"I know."

"Good." Faith reached behind her back and removed the handgun she had had concealed. 

Wesley looked at her with wide eyes as she handed the gun over to him. "What… what is this, Faith?"

"If I can't be a Slayer on my own terms, then I won't be a Slayer at all."

Wesley looked down at the gun, his hands shaking. "You want me to…." He stopped, unable to finish the sentence. He looked back up at Faith, hoping she was not asking for what he thought she was.

"They want a new Slayer, Wes, so I'm gonna let them have a new Slayer."

"No," he said firmly, holding the gun out for her to take. "No, I'm not going to do it. I _can't_ do it."

Faith stepped closer to him, taking his face in her hands. "It only takes a few minutes, right? If I'm gone for a few minutes, that's enough time for a new one to be called. Isn't that the deal?"

"Yes, Faith, but…."

"No buts, Wesley…."

"But we can just get out of here. Get out of LA."

"No, I'm tired of running. I just want to live my life, and they won't let me unless a new Slayer is called."

"But Faith…."

She shushed him, placing a finger against his lips. "I trust you. I trust you to do this. If they kill me, that's it. It's over. But I know you. You'll bring me back. You won't let me go that easily."

"Faith, I don't think I can do this," Wesley replied, his eyes beginning to burn from the oncoming tears.

"Don't wimp out on me now, Pryce," she smirked.

Pounding at the door broke their conversation. Both turned to the door as it seemed on the verge of breaking from the force.

"Faith," he whispered.

"Please, Wes," she pleaded, her voice breaking as her own tears began to fall. "You have to do this."

Wesley reached up with his free hand and gently stroked Faith's face. "You know I love you, right?"

Faith smiled, swallowing hard to steady her voice. "I love you, too."

"Faith, I…."

"Just promise you won't let me go," she said quietly.

"I promise," Wesley replied and kissed her. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against Faith's for a moment. "I love you," he whispered.

"I know," she cried.

The blast echoed eerily in the empty storage room.

Faith's eyes opened wide in pain. She placed a hand to her wounded stomach before looking back up at Wesley, a slip of a thankful smile on her lips. She collapsed into his arms as the Elite Team finally busted down the door.

The trio of armed men stopped when they saw Wesley on the floor, Faith's crumpled and bleeding body in his arms. His arms wrapped tightly around her. One hand covered her wound while the other held onto her wrist, feeling her rapid and weakening pulse.

Quentin pushed through the men to examine the scene himself. He nodded in approval as he said, "Well, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, it appears you're a team player after all."

Wesley looked up at him, his face streaked with tears. "Fuck you, Travers," he growled.

"I am sorry it had to come to this, Wesley," Quentin replied, "But we have a business to run. We have people to save. Apocalypses to stop. For us, an inactive Slayer…."

"Is a dead Slayer," Wesley finished bitterly. "Yes, I know the damn motto. Well, congratulations, you've got yourself a new Slayer on the way."

Quentin simply nodded, reached into his jacket pocket, and removed his cell phone. 

Wesley looked down at Faith, and he could feel the warm rush of her blood seeping through his slacks. Her eyes were closed, but she was still breathing. His hand continued to hold tightly to her wrist as her pulse seemed to become more faint.

__

I'm not going to let you go, Faith.

Quentin sighed, hung up his phone, and placed it back inside his pocket. "Not quite yet, Wesley. Your girl appears to be holding on."

Wesley simply looked up at the man.

"Are you certain you don't want us to speed up the process? I'm quite sure she's suffering more this way."

Wesley removed his bloody hand from Faith's stomach and grabbed the gun at his side. "Touch her, and I will not hesitate to place a bullet in your skull," he snarled.

Quentin held up his hands. "I just thought that maybe that would be better for the both of you."

"No, you thought it'd be better for the Council," he spat. "Hasn't that always been the way, Travers? What's good for the Council is good for the world. Screw everyone else you have to maim and kill on the path to justice, right?"

Before Quentin could reply, his cell phone rang. He retrieved it from his pocket with a sigh. "Quentin Travers," he said. "Yes…. Yes…. Thank you."

He hung up the phone with a triumphant smile. "Thank you for your help, Wesley."

Instantly, Wesley dropped the gun and placed his hand to Faith's throat. "No," he whispered as he searched frantically for a pulse of any kind.

While he fussed with Faith, one of Elite came up and grabbed the gun. Wesley simply watched him take the gun and walk away as Quentin explained, "We'd hate for you to be placed in jail for murder."

As he and the Elite Team strolled out of the storage room, Quentin called over his shoulder, "I hope to work with you again, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce." 

Instantly, Wesley reached for his cell phone and dialed 911.

__

I'm not letting go, Faith, he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: It donned on me the other day that I am evil for leaving you guys hanging like I did. So after I returned to my dark lair, finished cackling evilly to myself, and finished my evil genius plans for world domination…. Um, forget I said that. :-) But thanks again guys for all the feedback you've been giving. It totally makes my day!

**********

"Sir, would you like something clean to wear?" the nurse asked.

Wesley did not respond. Slouched in the unforgiving plastic chair, his eyes remained focused on his lap. On her blood that stained him through to his skin. Covered in blood that he wished were his own, he clenched his fists tightly.

The nurse watched him for a moment, not sure what else to say. She cleared her throat before asking again, "Sir?"

Wesley finally looked up at her, his face pale and eyes tired.

"I could get you some clean scrubs if you like," she said, smiling kindly down at him. 

"No," Wesley replied with a slight shake of his head. "No, I'm fine. Thank you." He pulled himself upright in the chair. "How is she?"

The nurse's smile began to fade. "They had to stabilize her before they could proceed with surgery. They were able to get her blood pressure up high enough so they could proceed."

The nurse watched as Wesley dropped his head into his hands.

"Sir, she's a very lucky woman. She was technically dead for nearly ten minutes. Not too many people come back from that."

He sighed and looked back up at her. "Will she regain consciousness?"

The nurse shifted uncomfortably. "Dr. Malkin will be able to tell you about her progress as soon as the surgery is complete."

Wesley laughed bitterly. "I'll take that as a no."

The nurse frowned. "The doctor will be able to clear everything up, sir. I promise."

Wesley nodded and slouched back into his chair.

The nurse hesitated before continuing, "Sir, I know it isn't my place to say, but if you lose hope now, she has no chance."

Wesley could only nod as the nurse disappeared down the hallway.

Faith had no chance because he had taken it away from her. Hope had nothing to do with it. It was the bullet he had let rip through her body that had taken away her chance….

"Wesley?"

He didn't stir at the voice. He remained seated, his head back against the cold wall and his eyes looking off into the distance.

"Wes?"

Cordelia moved to sit beside him, but stopped short when she saw his blood-stained clothing. The others remained behind her as she slowly sat beside him. As she reached to gently touch his hands, she noticed more blood. Cordelia frowned and took a gentle hold of Wesley's wrist.

"Wesley?"

He slowly turned his head towards her in acknowledgement.

"Wes, why are you covered in blood?" Cordelia asked cautiously. "Is Faith…? Is she…?"

"You weren't followed, I presume," Wesley simply replied.

"Weird thing," Gunn said from over Cordelia's shoulder. "We were just in the middle of kicking some Elite ass when they backed off for no reason."

Fred, who held tightly to Gunn's hand, added quietly, "And then you called us."

"They had a reason for backing away," Wesley said gruffly as he sat up again. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs as he clasped his hands together. 

"They killed her, didn't they?" Angel said as Connor sat down next to Cordelia. "That's why they backed down. A new Slayer was called."

"Yes, but they didn't kill her…. I did," he whispered.

Cordelia frowned and gently rubbed Wesley's back. "I know it seems that way now, Wes, but _you_ didn't kill Faith…."

He laughed quietly, and for a moment Cordelia wondered if he was crying. He turned to her as he replied, "Cordelia, _I_ killed Faith. I'm the one who pulled the trigger. I… I killed Faith."

Cordelia's hand stopped over his spine. "What? _You_ shot her?!"

He nodded and turned his eyes back to the tiled hospital floor.

Cordelia glanced up at the others, and they could only return her look of utter shock. She looked back at Wesley as she asked warily, "Can I ask why?"

"Because she asked me to," he sighed. "She believed in me. She thought I'd be able to bring her back, that if the Council did it, they would finish the job."

"So you shot her to save her?" Fred asked meekly.

Wesley simply ran a hand through his hair.

"Wesley, is she dead?" Cordelia asked, bracing herself for the news as she felt the muscles in his back tense under her fingertips.

"I don't know. She was…. She was gone for seven minutes or so. Dead, but… but they brought her back. She's in surgery right now."

"And her chances?"

He shrugged.

Fred mumbled to herself. "With that kind of cut off of oxygen to the brain…." She stopped thinking aloud as everyone but Wesley turned to look at her. Fred frowned as she read everyone's faces. "Was I thinking out loud again?"

Cordelia shot the girl a "shut up, Fred!" look as Gunn pulled at Fred's hand. "Why don't we go get something to drink?" he said as he pulled her away. "Connor, you want to come?"

Connor glanced at Cordelia and Wesley before turning to Angel. "Go ahead," Angel replied gently and the boy took off after Gunn and Fred.

Angel hovered for a moment before sitting in the chair Connor had vacated.

The three sat in silence for a moment before Cordelia sighed and leaned into Wesley. She rested her chin on his shoulder as she said quietly, "She'll be okay, Wes. I know it."

"How do you know?" Wesley asked as he buried his face in his hands.

She smiled gently. "Because I'm Cordelia. That's how."

Wesley nodded and smiled in appreciation.

**********

Wesley laid peacefully, slipping into slumber. The bed shifted before he felt Faith straddle his back. She trailed her fingernails up and down his bare skin as she asked, "You sleep?"

His arms crossed under his head, Wesley grunted. "Was it the serene look on my face and the closed eyes that gave me away?" he mumbled.

"Smart ass," Faith smirked.

"Remind me why I put up with you again?"

Faith shrugged. "Because I'm the only woman who will put up with your shit. Because I could hurt you if I wanted to." She leaned forward and bit his earlobe. She chuckled as he shifted underneath her. "And because the sex is amazing."

"Yes, now it's all coming back to me," he smiled.

"Yeah, I'm sure it is. So are you up for it?"

Wesley simply grunted again.

"Come on. Don't wimp out on me now, Pryce."

Wesley's eyes shot open. Those words. He knew those words. "What did you say?"

He felt the bed shift again as the weight on his back disappeared. "Don't wimp out on me now, Pryce."

Wesley turned over quickly, but by the time, he sat up, the room was empty. The scent of Faith's lilac shampoo lingered in the air.

**********

"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce?"

Wesley opened his eyes, and it took him a moment to get his bearings. The glare of the fluorescent lights and the smell of antiseptics quickly reminded him that he was in the hospital. He glanced quickly to his right where Cordelia was asleep in her chair. Connor sat next to her, eating a candy bar and flipping through a magazine.

"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce?"

Wesley looked up at the older man. He wore a lab coat over his light green scrubs, and Wesley caught a glimpse of the nametag. Faith's doctor.

He instantly got to his feet, waking Cordelia in the process. "How is she?" he asked.

Dr. Malkin adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses upon his face. "The surgery itself was a success. There was very minimal internal damage. Luckily, the bullet missed her major internal organs."

"I hear a but coming…."

"We managed to stabilize her, but she was dead for seven minutes, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. Her brain was cut off from its oxygen supply for a significant amount of time. In these kinds of situations, people very rarely regain consciousness."

"But there's still a chance, right?" Cordelia asked from her seat. Beside her, Connor watched helplessly, his candy bar dangling from his mouth.

"There's always a chance," Dr. Malkin said with a nod. "These next few hours are critical. If she's able to regain consciousness within the crucial timeframe, we're out of the woods."

"And if not?" Wesley frowned.

"Like I said, there's always a chance."

Connor finally spoke. "Can we go see her?"

Dr. Malkin shook his head. "Not at the moment. She's still in the recovery room. As soon as we move her to the ICU, I'll let you know, and you can go see her."

"Thank you, Doctor," Cordelia smiled appreciatively.

Dr. Malkin nodded and disappeared back down the hallway.

Once he was gone, Cordelia turned to Connor. She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. She handed it to him as she said, "Hey, Con, why don't you go get us all something to drink in the cafeteria?"

"Okay," he said and took the money from her hands.

Cordelia watched him leave before turning to Wesley. He sat back down in his chair with a sigh.

"You don't have to stay, Cordelia."

"I know I don't, but I want to. I mean, Angel hates hospitals, and Fred and Gunn really felt weird being here. But I want to be here." She smiled gently as she added, "And so does Connor. We're not going to abandon you."

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"You're welcome," she said as she gently squeezed his knee. They sat in silence for a moment before she asked, "It was Faith, wasn't it?"

Wesley looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Your rhetorical question from earlier. It was Faith. She told you she loved you."

Wesley nodded.

"And you didn't say it back."

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head.

"Wow, so you really are a guy," she smirked.

He turned to her again and Cordelia smiled softly at him in response.

"Wes, you aren't the first and you won't be the last man to be completely dumbstruck when your girlfriend says she loves you. Especially when your girlfriend is as stoic about emotions as Faith. I mean, they base entire movies around the concept." She paused with a sigh. "Maybe you don't tell her right at that moment, but all the matters is that you say it to her. That she knows." She hesitated before continuing. "You _did _get a chance, didn't you?"

Wesley nodded and scoffed bitterly. "Right before I shot her."

Cordelia frowned as she watched Wesley slouch back into his chair. "Wes, you can't beat yourself up. You did what you had to do to save her…."

"And in the process I've killed her."

"No, you haven't. Besides being highly violent, unpredictable, and at times _highly _antisocial, Faith's also a fighter. She's not going to give up without a struggle, and she'd be extremely pissed if she knew you were giving up." Cordelia paused with a slight smirk on her face. "Now unless you want a really pissed off Slayer ghost haunting the hotel day in and day out, I advise you to suck it up and have some faith. Pun _intended_."

Wesley finally looked up at her and smiled despite himself. "You may have a point."

"Of course I do," Cordelia shrugged. "Now are you going to let Lilah and the Council win this battle?"

"No."

Cordelia smiled and took Wesley's hand. "Good."


	8. Chapter 8

Wesley stared through the glass, debating. Barbecue chips or a candy bar. He frowned as his eyes changed focus, and he saw his reflection staring back at him. He growled at himself as he fought the urge to put his fist through the glass. Maybe if he sliced up his hand, he would finally feel something. Ever since he had shot Faith, he had felt unbelievably numb. He wanted to feel something, anything, and if it meant shedding his own blood, then so be it.

He raised his fist.

"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce?"

Wesley turned to the voice, slowly dropping his arm. "Yes?"

The nurse who had spoken to him earlier approached him, a wide smile on her face. "Good news, sir."

Cordelia looked up from her magazine to see a nurse approaching Wesley. She quickly threw the magazine in his seat and went to join him.

"She's in the ICU, and she's asking for you," the nurse smiled.

"Asking for me?" he replied quietly, unable to comprehend what he was hearing.

Hearing this, Cordelia gasped and looked at the nurse. "So that means…."

"She's wide awake," the nurse finished happily. She looked back to Wesley as she asked, "Would you like to see her?"

Wesley laughed quietly as he looked at Cordelia. She smiled back at him and gave him a slight shove. "Well, go you idiot!"

"Follow me," the nurse said as she turned and made her way down the hallway. Cordelia smiled as she watched Wesley leave with the nurse. She returned to Connor, eager to share the good news.

**********

"Your girlfriend is a real trooper," the nurse said as she and Wesley walked towards Faith's room.

"She is," Wesley smiled.

"Quite honestly, considering everything she's been through, she's the best and fastest recovery I've seen in my twenty years as an RN." 

Wesley listened in silence as they stood before Faith's room. He watched her through the window, and a sense of relief washed over him as he saw her lying in the bed. 

The numbness was finally disappearing.

"It's almost like she's superhuman," the nurse grinned.

Wesley chuckled and nodded. "Almost."

The nurse nodded back and opened the door for him. Wesley thanked her before stepping into the room. She pulled the door closed gently behind him.

Faith didn't stir as Wesley stepped up to her bedside. He listened to the beeping of the machines as he quietly called her name. She slowly turned her head towards the sound of his voice and opened her eyes. Seeing him, a soft smile formed on her lips. "Hey."

Wesley smiled widely. He took hold of her hand, being careful of her IV lines. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

She laughed gently. "Just wondering how Buffy can do this dying thing over and over again. Because not exactly the most fun-filled experience."

Wesley laughed in response. "I hope you don't plan to make a habit of it."

"Hey, you're the one who shot me."

"As I recall, you told me to."

"And the one time you actually listen to me," she smirked.

"Keep in mind who tied whom to a chair and tortured them," Wesley smiled as he raised an eyebrow.

Faith grinned. "Good point. Think we're even now?"

"More than."

Faith's smile faded as she asked, "Did it work?"

"Yes, a new Slayer has been called."

"Lucky girl," she frowned.

"Considering everything we've been through tonight, I say you're the lucky one."

Faith looked around the hospital room, her frown never fading. "Yeah, I guess."

After a moment of silence, Wesley gently squeezed her hand. "Faith, what happened?"

Her frown turned to a smirk as her eyes came back to his. "Um, you shot me, and I bled to death. You were there, babe."

Wesley rolled his eyes slightly. "No, after…. When you…?"

Faith sighed gently. "Fire, brimstone, pointy forks, big guy in red spandex. The whole works. No holds barred."

"Is it possible to die and come back even _more_ sarcastic than before?" he smirked.

"Apparently so."

Wesley simply smiled, leaned over, and kissed her forehead.

"Well, one good thing came out of all of this," she said.

"The Council will never bother you again and you'll be able to live your life as you please?"

"Okay, make it two things then."

Wesley continued to smile at her, curious.

"Now, every time you try to make me do something I don't want to do-- like watch Old Yeller-- I can lay the ultimate of guilt trips on you." 

Wesley chuckled as Faith smiled brightly at him. "You're really something, you know."

"I know. That's why you love me despite your better judgment."

He smiled and gently lifted her hand, kissing her fingers. He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips. As he pulled away, he replied, "Yes, it is."

"Can we interrupt?" Cordelia asked as she knocked on the doorframe.

She and Connor stood in the doorway. Cordelia carried a small vase of flowers as Connor held a brown teddy bear which had a balloon attached to its wrist that read, "Get Well Soon!!!"

"Wicked," Faith smiled. "I come back from the dead _and_ I get gifts."

"I didn't realize the gift shop was open this late?" Wesley smiled.

"It's not," Cordelia shrugged with a smile. "The staff did us a tiny favor."

"Hi, Faith," Connor grinned as he sat the bear at the foot of her bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good, kid."

"The others are on their way," Cordelia said to Wesley.

He nodded and turned back to Faith, squeezing her hand again. "Faith, I need to take care of something. Will you be okay?"

Faith smiled and lifted her opposite arm. "Wes, babe, have you _seen_ the drugs they're slipping me. I'll be good for a while."

Wesley laughed gently, releasing her hand. "I'll be back." He turned to Cordelia and hugged her. "Thank you, Cordelia."

She hugged him back, grinning. "Hey, what are friends for, huh?"

He released her with a smile. He glanced at Faith who was already striking up a conversation with Connor about what it felt like to be shot.

"I'll be back," he said to Cordelia before strolling out of the room.

**********

Late nights. She hated them intensely, but they were a necessary evil. If working twenty-four hours around the clock proved to the Senior Partners that she was a company-gal, then that's what she would do. Besides, now that she was finally rid of the Slayer, she could catch up on all the paperwork she had been neglecting.

Lilah flipped through the warm, freshly copied pages of her file as she opened her office door. She closed the door gently with her foot as she continued to flip through the pages.

"Burning the midnight oil?"

Lilah gasped and her papers went fluttering to the carpet. She looked up to see Wesley sitting in her chair behind her desk. He smiled at her, and she could only huff as she bent over to retrieve her papers.

"Didn't mean to scare you," he replied.

"Did you forget who I work for?" she replied as she hastily gathered the papers. She gathered them into an unruly stack as she stood. "Takes more than that to scare me, Wesley."

Wesley simply shrugged and stood. He clasped his hands behind his back as he approached her.

"I assume this is about Faith," she frowned as she set the papers on the edge of her desk.

"Yes."

Lilah's frown changed into a slight smirk. "Killing her was just part of the job. Hearing that you were the one who pulled it off? Now that was sheer entertainment."

Wesley chuckled softly. "She's not dead."

The smirk faded, and the corner of Lilah's mouth twitched. "What are you talking about? She has to be a dead. A new Slayer was called and everything."

"Yes because she _did_ die. But a strange thing happened," he smirked. "She came back."

Lilah growled. "What the hell does it take to kill you people?"

Wesley simply laughed. "You tell me."

Lilah turned to grab her phone, to notify security. She only turned her back to Wesley for a split second, but that split second was all he needed.

Before Lilah could defend herself, Wesley grabbed her and firmly held her, pressing her back into him. His arm wrapped tightly around her, pinning her arms to her sides. With his free hand, he held one of Faith's favorite knives to her throat.

"Have you forgotten about my new security?" Lilah asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Yes, and it's quite amusing how easily your colleagues will sell you out around here," Wesley replied. "Gavin; I believe you know him. All I had to do was tell him that I was here to ruin one of your little plans, and he was more than happy to disconnect the security cameras and bugs in your office."

"That little bastard," she hissed.

"Now, now, Lilah. Is that anyway to speak about colleagues?"

Lilah grimaced as Wesley dug the point of the knife underneath her chin. She felt the blood run down her neck before she felt the pain.

"You asked me one night what it felt like when Justine cut me. It was quite surreal, actually. The knife goes through your skin before you really have a chance to feel it. By the time you feel the pain, you've already bled out."

Lilah fought the urge to scream as he drug the knife slowly to the right. He stopped after only moving the blade merely an inch.

"Of course, that's only if the person does it fast," he continued. "The slower the process, the more time your nervous system has to register what's happening. Thus more pain."

"Wesley, please," Lilah pleaded through tears of pain.

"So here's what I was thinking. Obviously, your plan failed, and I would thoroughly enjoy sharing that news with your boss. Your superiors don't really seem like the type to keep forgiving mistakes, especially considering how many you've made." He paused with a shrug. "I could slit your throat right here, but what would be the fun in that? Especially when the Senior Partners could think up a punishment much bloodier and painful. Maybe even with some dismemberment involved."

Lilah remained silent, her mind drifting between Wesley and the blood washing over her neck.

"I won't tell the Senior Partners that you not only failed but you also helped bring a _third_ living and breathing Slayer into the world, and you'll leave Faith alone."

"Deal," Lilah gasped. "We have a deal."

"And just so we're clear. If you come near Faith again, or if I even _think_ you or any of your goons are near her, I will come back here, and you _will_ know what it felt like when Justine cut me." He paused with a smirk. "And those stains _are_ a bitch to get out."

Wesley pushed Lilah away, and she stumbled before falling to the floor. She gingerly held her hand to her neck. She felt the blood ooze between her fingers as Wesley strolled nonchalantly out of her office.

"Have a good evening, Lilah," he called over his shoulder as he pulled her office door shut behind him. 

**********

"Maybe you could pick up the pace?"

Wesley grunted. "Maybe _you _could walk."

Wesley grunted again as he balanced Faith in his arms. He leaned slightly, his fingers finding the apartment doorknob. After a third attempt, he was finally able to get the knob to turn so that the door would open. He gave the apartment door a kick with a sigh.

"Dr. Malkin said I should move as little as possible," Faith grinned.

"Yes, he did, but he also doesn't know you're a Slayer with above-average healing capabilities," he replied as he nudged the apartment door shut with his foot.

"Are you asking me to disobey my doctor?"

"No, I'm asking you to lose a couple of pounds," Wesley smirked as he walked over to the couch.

"Um, people who were shot in the gut by their boyfriends please raise your hand," Faith said. She raised her own hand and smirked at him. Wesley simply rolled his eyes. "That's what I thought."

Wesley helped her down onto the couch as he replied, "You know, that's going to stop working sooner or later."

"More the reason for me to use it now," she smiled.

Wesley shook his head and started towards the bedroom. "You up for movie night?" he called down the hallway.

"When am I _never_ up for movie night?" she called back.

When he returned, he had a videotape in one hand and a fleece blanket in the other. He draped the blanket over her as he said, "You know, we never got a chance to finish Old Yeller."

"The girl with the sucking gut wound given to her by her loving boyfriend would like to object," she smirked with a raise of her hand.

"I'm sorry. Did you say something?" Wesley smiled as he made his way to the VCR. "All I heard was this annoying buzzing sound."

"Fine, be that way," she grinned. "Just wait til I'm back up to my full strength."

He placed the tape in the VCR and hit play. The tape began where they had left it, and Wesley sat down next to Faith. He propped his feet up on the coffee table as Faith sighed loudly. After a moment, she held tight to her blanket and laid down. She stretched across the couch, her head resting in Wesley's lap.

Wesley smoothed down her hair as she held the blanket tightly around her neck. "So they really shoot the dog, huh?"

"Yes, for his own good. And when he comes back to life later in the movie, he lays a horrible guilt trip on his owners until they go insane."

"My kind of dog," Faith laughed.

"I'm sure he is, Faith," Wesley smiled as he and Faith began to watch the movie in comfortable silence.


End file.
